PART 2:
Ezra slowed the pace when they came into view of the wreck, and came to an utter halt when all of it was revealed. He said nothing, staring out at the destruction as he held one hand to his chest and Josiah held onto his other arm.
Buck came around his other side and put a hand under Ezra's elbow as he seemed to lose some of his strength, his legs almost buckling.
Standish swallowed and said nothing, wide eyes staring at what was left of the Mighty Columbia. The wreckage was impressive to anyone's eyes, and as Buck stared at it alongside Ezra, he thanked the Lord that his friend had been allowed to survive it.
A little fire was burning near the wreck, and Cook was shouting at a man to put it out.
People nudged past them, but the three men didn't move for several long minutes as Ezra just stared, breathing slowly and holding his hand to his chest, as if to keep himself in place.
"Hey," Cook called, walking toward them. "Hey, you're the one who was on the train! I pulled you out of that car myself." He looked Ezra up and down in astonishment. "Thank the Lord," he uttered. "Thank the Lord! I thought you were dead when I first spied you. I was sure you were dead."
Ezra inclined his head and stated, "I am very glad that you were wrong. Thank you," said quietly, and then returned his gaze to the wreckage. "I truly appreciate you extricating me from this… difficulty."
"The least I could do," Cook mumbled, his gaze straying toward the switch – stuck in the wrong position. "Are you able to say what happened? I need you to tell the inspectors what you remember, honest and true," Cook said sincerely. "We need to figure out why all these people had to get hurt or killed or lost."
Ezra winced at those words, and then asked, "The crew. They said that the crew is gone?"
Cook deflated even further. "We have no idea what happened to them. Sent a wire to Cedar Ridge, but haven't gotten a reply. We sent some folks out to follow the track, and no word yet. Did you speak to them before you left? Did they say anything odd?"
"I was introduced to them when we boarded," Ezra told Cook. "They had nothing to do with this crash."
"You sure, Ezra?" Buck asked.
Ezra nodded. "They belonged to the Columbia. They loved that train as their own. You should have seen them, Mr. Wilmington. They held such pride for this locomotive, kept her shined and polished and in perfect running order. They would never have done anything to hurt her. It'll kill them to see her like this." He looked to Cook. "Find them."
The stationmaster nodded, understanding. "We will," he ensured and then nodded to the still smoking wreckage of the Bonneville Hotel. "I want to show you something."
They started moving toward it, around the wreck of the cars, when Ezra halted to stare at the private car. It was split open, and one could easily look into what remained of the car. Everything inside was topsy-turvy and thrown about as if it had survived a tornado. The car was turned perpendicular to the track, the entrance was pressed to the boardwalk.
"Curious," Ezra said, staring.
"What do'ya see, Ez?" Buck asked.
"The lock," Ezra worked his arm out of Buck's grip and pointed. "Someone tried to pick it, badly. Then they jammed it."
Cook and Buck both stepped closer to the clearly visible lock, as Josiah stayed at Ezra's side to keep him upright. Everything on the train was a ruin, but the scratches around the lock were not caused by the wreck, and there was no doubting that someone had scratched it with a tool, then jammed that tool into the lock.
"It was pristine when I went through it this morning," Ezra told them. "And it explains why Rand was unable to open the door. He did say that the car was impregnable. I suspect someone tried the lock, wanting to get through to him. When it wouldn't give way, they went chose a different course."
Buck exchanged glances with Cook and Josiah. This left no doubt. Someone had been trying to kill Rand.
Cook stepped back. "Come on, that makes the rest of this even more interesting." And he started to climb into the wreckage of the hotel.
It was obvious that Ezra would have no luck following. "Keep an eye on him," Buck told Josiah, and left the preacher in charge of their gambler.
Benson appeared, breaking out of the crowd to join them. "You boys need any help?" he asked. "I'm eager to get something started here."
"No," Cook said abruptly. "We have things in hand, Mr. Benson. I suggest you find something to do until tomorrow, and let me do my work." He glanced toward the cars and said, "Keep the man with the cigar away from here. Last thing we need is a fire to get started. We had an oil spill last month!" And he made a gesture to Buck, to keep him moving into the blasted hotel, leaving Benson behind.
Behind him, Buck heard Ezra say, "I want my hat!" and Josiah trying to placate him. Buck shook his head, feeling sorry for Josiah.
The hotel was a horror. The shell of it creaked and groaned around them. It would come down soon. A glance at the next building told him that the bank might not stand much longer either. A crack ran all the way up the wall to the roof.
Teetering over boards and beams, they made their way to what was left of the Mighty Columbia. The boiler had blasted apart, torn open like so much tin. The cab was shattered and scattered, and the tender had run over the top of what was left.
Cook squatted and pointed. "See that there?"
Buck hunched beside him and squinted into the dimness, into the twisted mess. He was about to ask for more information, when he noticed what had caught Cook's eye. The controls for the Columbia were still mostly in one piece on what remained of the carriage, bent but complete. Buck could easily make out the levers, even if he didn't know what function they performed – but he could recognize that someone had twisted a wire around them to hold the controls in place.
"Sabotage?" Buck asked quiet.
"Definitely. If what your friend says was right, it wasn't the crew that did this. I know train crews, and this doesn't seem right. They were either forced off, or killed. I better put a guard on Rand. Someone's tryin' awful hard to kill him."
Buck looked at the neighboring building again – the Ridge City Bank. He twisted, looking toward the train station. The rails went straight through the town, but the side track branched off at the station –used for moving one train out of the way to allow another to pass. The spur joined up again just outside of town – at another switch.
"Why weren't you at the station when it happened?" Buck asked carefully.
Cook was silent a moment, then said, "I got a message that my wife wanted me home right that moment. There were no trains coming so I saw no harm in it. I was just arriving at our place when I heard the Columbia. I couldn't get back in time." His face screwed up as if in pain. "If I hadn't left…"
Buck clamped a hand on Cook's shoulder. "This wasn't your fault," Wilmington told him sincerely. "Someone did this with purpose."
Cook nodded. "They would have needed people on the train and people in town to set the switch."
"And someone to send you that message."
Cook's frown deepened. "Why? What had Rand done to deserve that anger?"
Buck sighed. "Maybe they were tryin' to kill him, or maybe…" and he pointed to the bank. "Maybe they meant to ram this engine straight into the bank vault."
Cook whistled. "Sons of bitches," he muttered. "Those dirty sons of bitches." He snatched off his hat. "They killed and maimed people for nothing! Rand lives and the vault is un-breached."
Buck sighed, "Yeah, for nothing." And he looked for Josiah and Ezra where they should be standing on the boardwalk. He couldn't see them any longer, but what he did see set him on his feet, as he scrambled over the wreck. "Fire!" he shouted. "FIRE!"
The wrecked train cars were burning.
The people on the street, probably dulled by the constant smoke coming off of the hotel, hadn't even noticed that something had touched off the train car. Buck had only seen a flicker of flame at first glance, but it flared into a full-fledged conflagration by the time he stumbled clear of the hotel.
Everyone was running. A bucket brigade was trying to form, as others were slapping at the fire with cloths, while still other stumbled and fretted as they attempted to get away.
The fire surged around the broken blue and silver cars – flames crawling up from beneath.
"Ezra! Josiah!" Buck shouted, shoving the slow-moving people out of the way as he searched for his friends, as flames surrounded the private car.
"Josiah!" he yelled, trying to be heard of the rabble of screaming citizens.
Son of a bitch… son of a bitch! Don't you dare be in there! Don't you dare!
Cook was beside him, his eyes round with terror. "The oil spill,' he muttered. "Oh God! I told them! I told them to put those fires out!"
The car busted open suddenly, and a large shape charged through, stumbling onto the boardwalk as citizens dove to get out of the way. From out of the flame, Josiah stood, his beard smoldering, his jacket singed and blacked tugged tightly to his chest, Ezra clung to his hat.
"Found it!" Ezra said. As Wilmington stumbled to a stop in front of the pair.
"What the hell, Josiah?" Buck screamed at the preacher.
Josiah said nothing at first. His eyes wide and haunted. "He wanted his hat." And he glanced over his shoulder. "Then it was all fire." He shoved his way through the crowd to get to the closet building, and then leaned Ezra against the wall as Standish started coughing miserably.
"Hadn't expected that," Standish said, and he leaned against his knees, coughing and wrapping an arm around his chest. "If I'd known… Probably would've sent… Josiah in alone…"
Josiah shook his head and patted Ezra's back with one hand, as he coughed into his other. He looked at Buck in disbelief.
Cook was shouting above the rabble, trying to get the bucket brigade organized. He gave Buck a look full of meaning and continued on his work.
What the hell…
*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*
"And why is this a good idea?" Josiah asked. "Can you explain that to me?"
Ezra smiled in satisfaction, closing his eyes as he drew his hat down over his eyes. "Because we need to find out what happened to Ash and Harvey before all evidence is lost." He sat ram-rod straight on his rented horse as it trotted alongside the train tracks, between Buck and Josiah's mounts. "They are due that much."
"He needs rest," Josiah insisted, his eyes fixed on Ezra.
"I'm well enough," Ezra responded, and coughed slightly. "The smoky atmosphere of the town will do me no good. Isn't fresh air preferable?" He turned his head slightly, as if he meant to turn toward the town, but he remained sitting straight as a pillar.
Others had been out earlier, looking for the crew, but Ezra knew where the train had slowed, and it was the best place to start the investigation. Besides, Buck did not feel right leaving Ezra alone in that town, in his present state, especially after the fire. They had to take him with them.
"We'll check this out," Buck promised. "Then find a room before dark so we can all get some rest."
Ezra smiled cheekily at Josiah. "See," he said. "It's all been decided."
Josiah gave Buck a dark look, so Buck said, "You're the one that let him go into the train car to look for his damn hat!"
So Josiah looked away, returning his gaze to the shacks that were their goal. "He's… persistent," Josiah responded in a defeated tone.
After a moment, Ezra stated, "They were… they are good men, Harvey and Ash, and deserve to be found." And then he added. "I shook their hands. That's worth something, isn't it?"
There was no doubting that.
They had travelled a short distance further, when Ezra suddenly asked, "Did you do it, Mr. Wilmington?"
Buck was dumbfounded. "Do what, Ez? Crash the train?"
"Complete the purchase that concerned you so…"
It took a moment for Buck to remember. He laughed. "You mean those earrings, for Miss Lang? Lord, Ezra, you confuse me sometimes."
"Did you?" Ezra continued.
"Yeah, yeah, I did." Wilmington chuckled, then explained to Josiah, who was giving him a curious look. "I was contemplating a certain purchase at the pawn shop, for my lady."
"You have a 'lady'?" Josiah asked.
"Doesn't he always?" Ezra replied.
"Lindsay Lang," Buck supplied.
"Vin's girl?" Josiah added.
With a sharp shake of his head, Buck declared hotly, "Lindsey and I have been seein' each other and that mangy tracker's got no chance with her. Look at me, and then consider him. He don't measure up!"
"So you bought her some fancy jewelry to tip the scales further in your direction," Josiah stated.
"Ezra helped me to pick something out," Buck continued.
"Women like shiny things," Ezra said. "The more glitter, the better."
"Women prefer a man of character, an honest and charitable man!" Josiah told him.
"So says you…" Ezra responded as he pulled off his hat to rub his forehead.
"Oh, I know women," Buck replied. "And they like all sorts of things, but a little something shiny never hurts!"
"The sort of women I know are very fond of such things," Ezra said, giving Josiah a small smile.
"Maybe you should be lookin' for a different sort," Josiah chastised.
Ezra laughed, which made him cough again, which made him wince.
Buck kept an eye on the gambler, noting his stiff stance and the dip of his head.
Standish replaced his hat slowly and carefully, then glanced to Buck. He rolled his eyes when he realized that Wilmington was watching him, and then urged his horse forward.
He wasn't going to last much longer.
They slowed when they reached the buildings, and Ezra casually looked them over as they moved past the first few. Finally, he drew his horse to a stop beside one of them and said, "Here. It was here that the Columbia nearly stopped – and then started speeding up."
Buck and Josiah dismounted and began searching while Ezra stayed in his saddle. Wilmington wished Vin was there, with his impressive ability to find clues in just about any terrain, but even along this well-worn area, it wasn't hard to miss the signs.
"Someone landed here," Buck said, pointed to a place where the earth was scuffed up.
"And here," Josiah said, pointing to another spot. He squatted and frowned. "Blood," he said as he examined the dark splotches. "This one was hurt."
Something near the shack caught Buck's eye and he jogged the few steps to retrieve an ugly battered Stetson. He held it up to Ezra. "This look familiar? Were either of those crewmen wearing it?"
Ezra shook his head slowly. "They were in uniform, with smart low caps in blue and silver."
Buck beat the hat against his leg. "It hasn't been here for long," he said.
"Could have come from one of the folks searching," Josiah tried.
Buck gave him a look. "If you lost your hat would you just let it go?" and he turned to Ezra for emphasis. "If folks were just riding along the rail, they'd stop. Whoever left this was in a hurry."
"As if they were dealing with an injury," Josiah stated.
"And with no new trains coming through, it didn't blow off a passenger's head. Might've come from the morning train though." Buck frowned, but it didn't seem likely. "Where do you think these guys went?"
"If one of them was hurt, they'd go to the hospital," Josiah stated. "If he was hurt badly, he's probably still there."
Buck nodded. "Nine beds in the ward, and all of them were filled. Rand had a private room, so yeah, they had at least one extra person."
Josiah stated, "It could be anyone of course, but it's our best chance of catching up to whoever did this."
"So it's back to the hospital?" Ezra said quietly. "Probably not such a bad idea." He kept his head low, and then added, "But we'd best check some of these shacks to be sure. I would hate to think that those crewmen sought refuge here and we didn't manage to find them."
*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*
It took longer than expected to return to town. There was no telling if the previous searchers had stopped to check the shacks, so they went through them all. They proved empty, and by the time Buck and Josiah had finished, only Ezra's stubbornness kept him upright in the saddle.
They returned slowly to the town, with Josiah and Buck riding tightly beside him.
The town remained bustling even as night descended. The fire had burned through what remained of the train cars, leaving just smoldering carriages and blackened neighboring businesses. Ezra didn't even look up as they passed it. He sat stiff and silent in his saddle, and it took both Buck and Josiah to ease him down.
They stopped at the hospital, and found there was no room. The fire had wounded several new citizens, and every available space was filled. The folks in charge were sympathetic, but Ezra was ambulatory, and many others were not.
They found answers to their questions. Immediately after the wreck, the hospital had housed the nine people hurt in the train wreck, plus two more. A woman was staying in one of the private rooms. She'd had a rough childbirth, and was bleeding badly. The worst of it was over, but they didn't want her moved for another day. And there had been a man who'd broken his arm after a fall from his horse, and had broken his nose.
He'd left hours ago, accompanied by another man. The hurt man was named Bill, and that's all they knew. When Ezra asked after Rand, he found that the lumber baron was doing well, and sleeping under the effects of painkillers. He wouldn't be available until morning. A local lawman was posted at his door.
Cook was still angrily trying to protect what was left of the Columbia, and pointed out the new damage – one of the town's businesses had caught fire and had lost most of its façade before the flames could be beaten back. He nodded when Buck and Josiah described what they found and said he'd be on the lookout for anyone suspicious with a broken arm and bruised face.
"We still haven't heard anything from Cedar Ridge," he told them. "Don't know if the crew made it back. The folks following the rail should have made it there by now. Something's wrong with their telegraph, I reckon."
Ezra said nothing during the discussion, wearily staring at the floor near his feet, until Cook finally disappeared, chasing after someone approaching the wreck, and Josiah steered him along the boardwalk again.
They needed to find a room for the night, but the main hotel in town had been obliterated, and every other available room was filled by the men who'd come to help. There was nothing left this late in the day.
Ezra could hardly stand, so they maneuvered him into the first available saloon, The Beacon. It was crowded, but they were able to find a table. Once they settled Ezra, he wordlessly laid his head on the table, cradled in his arms.
"Maybe we can find a private home?" Josiah said contemplatively. "I could beg some of the local folk. The church might have space?"
Buck glanced around and spotted a middle-aged woman in a bright dress, leaning against the bar. She had active eyes, keeping track of everyone in the room. Not that he'd ever met her before, but Buck recognized her immediately. "Hang on," he told Josiah and strode across the room.
She gave him an appraising look as he approached.
"Darlin'," Buck greeted, touching his hat. "I'm Buck Wilmington."
She redirected her look across the room. "Honey, you can call me Miss Fern if you wish."
"Thank you, Miss Fern. I'm hopin' all is well with you on this lovely evenin'."
"It's a busy one, so that makes it lovely for me," she responded. "You interested in anything in particular? I have plenty of young ladies and am sure one will meet your needs. I'm certain we can come to an agreement." She tipped her head saying, "It's been a while, but for certain customers, I might be amenable to offering my own personal services."
Buck smiled, and said, "I'm looking for a room for the night."
"The whole night?" she replied and gave him an appraising look. "That'll cost."
Buck turned toward their table. "As much as I'd like to partake, we're looking for just a room, a room for my friend."
Fern looked toward where Ezra sat with his head on in his arms, and Josiah was gently rubbing his back. "He drunk?" she asked.
"No, darlin', he was in the train that wrecked this morning and he's pretty much stove in."
Fern gave him a disbelieving look. "You're pulling my leg," she stated.
"They won't let him back into the hospital because he was able to walk out on his own. Trouble is, he can't go no further, and he needs rest awful bad. We can't let him sleep like that tonight. He's one big bruise and needs some comfort. So, if one of your ladies would be so kind as to give up her room for the night, we'd be grateful, and we'd pay a reasonable amount."
Fern moved to the table, and stood across from Ezra. Josiah looked up when she arrived, his expression concerned, but hopeful.
She turned her gaze to Ezra. The bruises were obvious, even with Ezra's face mostly hidden in his hands.
"He just needs someplace to rest," Buck told her. "I'm sure we can come up with some sort of an agreement."
"Bring him," she said tightly, swirling her skirts around her as she turned toward the far end of the bar.
It took some work to rouse Ezra enough to make him stand, and even so, he hardly carried his weight once Buck and Josiah were on either side of them. Fern waited beside a door. When they reached her, she pulled a key from her pocket and turned the lock.
It was dark within, but she lit a lamp. The room wasn't the typical cell used by a whore – not all perfumed-gauzy-pink. It was a nicely-furnished, warm little apartment with a tea kettle on the stove, and books on the shelf, a table, a couch, an easy chair and a small bed with a cozy quilt.
"This is my private place," Fern explained. "With all the business coming through tonight, I doubt I'll have time to use it tonight. Keep it neat. I'll want rest in morning. Don't mind the cat." And she turned, leaving the room in a rustle of skirts before Buck even had the chance to thank her.
TBC - all he needs is a good night's rest